


Within Dreams

by adonnneniel



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Solas Spoilers, Solavellan, but really just focusing on these two difficult nerds, fen'harel vallaslin, lavellan has social anxiety, other characters may make brief appearances, slight trespasser spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 12:50:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4829744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adonnneniel/pseuds/adonnneniel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solas is perplexed by the shy Dalish mage who will eventually become the Inquisitor, especially as her vallaslin depicts what could only be the Dread Wolf.</p><p>(A series of glimpses into the evolution of Inera Lavellan and Solas's relationship.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vallaslin

“I…have been meaning to ask you something.”

Inera, previously mesmerized by the crackling of the campfire, looked up in surprise. She had assumed everyone else had retired for the evening, but there next to her was Solas. When had he sat down? How did she not hear him?

She must’ve been silent for too long, as he chuckled softly and said, “My apologies, Inera, I did not mean to startle you.”

At that, she quickly recovered and gave him a tentative smile, brushing some imaginary hair from her face. A nervous gesture of hers. He was the only one who would say her name.

“It’s alright, what is it?” She was curious. The older elf had mostly kept to himself these past few weeks. The last, and only time she’d had a conversation with him was back at Haven.

He briefly returned her smile before continuing, “Your vallaslin, the pattern…it is not one I’ve seen before among your people.”

Of course that was his question.

“No, I suppose not,” Inera responded with a nervous laugh, “I drew it myself. It’s based on, well, a dream I had, as a child.”

Solas raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. He was obviously waiting for her to say more.

She just sighed. “Shortly after my magic manifested itself, I began having…odd dreams.”

“Odd how?” he asked, his interest piqued.

She stared into the fire as she talked, growing more and more embarrassed.

“They felt so…real. Lucid. I was aware of myself. Something that should’ve been terrifying as a young mage, and it was, until one night I stumbled upon…a wolf. A sleeping wolf.”

“A wolf?,” Solas said, taken aback, “Is that not a bad omen to the Dalish?”

Her ears were burning now.

“It is, and I’m sure any other would have taken it as such.”

“But not you?”

“Not entirely, no,” Inera hugged her knees closer, “As terrifying as he looked…he seemed sad. Lonely. As if he too were in the midst of a nightmare. Perhaps it was foolish of me to be so trusting of a being in the Fade, but I was still a child, and so I lay next to him, slowly, so as not to disturb him. And I stayed there for the rest of the night. And every night thereafter, when I could manage it. The Fade is difficult to navigate after all. I like to think I was able to provide him some measure of the comfort he brought me. I fancied him to be Fen'Harel himself as a child.”

Shit. Why was she still talking? What possessed her to reveal that? By now, her entire face was burning. What a foolish child she must seem to be! She chanced a glance at the elf next to her. Solas was staring intently at her, but his expression was unreadable, as was the tone of his next words.

“So you decided to…honor…the Dread Wolf with your vallaslin because of these dreams? Was that wise? Did that not cause your clan to distrust you?”

A bitter laugh escaped her, and before she could stop herself, and equally bitter tirade joined it.

“They already distrusted me. The reclusive mage with no discernible leadership skills? Chosen as our Keeper’s First? They hated me. They feared where I would lead them. As did I, but…Keeper Deshanna wouldn’t be dissuaded. Her faith in me was, is, misguided,” Inera paused and shook her head, “The vallaslin was both another attempt to make her finally realize how wrong her choice was, as well as paying respect to my childhood friend.”

And she was embarrassed once more. Curse her loose tongue!

Inera turned to face him once more. “But I’m so sorry, Solas. You probably didn’t mean to ask for my life story.”

His gaze softened for a moment, the smallest of smiles toying at his lips. She found that she was unable to look away.

“I’ll admit I did not, but do not let it trouble you. My curiosity is almost sated…you mentioned that these dreams continued. Do you…do you still see your wolf at night, even now?”

Inera shook her head. “No, sadly. They stopped just over a year ago. Perhaps he grew tired of my presence. I’m only surprised I could find him for as long as I did.”

His eyes widened, though only for a split second. She wondered why, and was about to ask - 

“I see…well. Thank you, for indulging me, Inera.”

Or not. Apparently, their conversation was at an end. Inera continued to stare at him a little longer, but he paid no mind. Solas seemed to be deep in thought, and he didn’t move from his seat beside her. Inera couldn’t decide if the silence was companionable or awkward. Questions burned within her, but now she dared not voice them. Perhaps another time, she thought.

Later, in her dreams, Inera swore she felt a presence watching her, but every time she turned, it vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter-ed story works better than the other format, I think. Any future updates will be here. To the few of you who commented, thank you! I'll try to write more when I can, though I'm busy finishing up my degree. :D


	2. Complications

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Solas POV, so slight spoilers from the Trespasser dlc!

He was watching her again.

_(He was always watching her now.)_

She was currently training with Madame De Fer, if one could even call it that. The older woman seemed to be attempting to “fix” the girl’s form into one befitting the Herald of Andraste. It was a lost cause, he knew; one’s relationship with magic was not so easily changed. The circle mage would find it impossible to impose her brand of order on the girl’s raw fluidity.

_(Though really, her use of magic was as perplexing and nonsensical as the girl herself.)_

Inera Lavellan was an intuitive caster: her spells looked to be formed by intention, rather than pre-thought planning, and thus, no pattern was ever exactly the same. The magic formed itself to suit her, which he knew to be antithetical to the Circle’s methods. True, it was risky, but he had yet to see her falter.

_(On the battlefield, at least.)_

It was a fitting style for one who had inadvertently given herself his mark. Twice. His eyes were once again drawn towards the harsh lines marring her face and throat, and he could feel his lips fighting a disgusted sneer. It was an insult, and he wasn’t sure if her ignorance lessened or strengthened the sting of it.

_(And yet, how could he blame her at all, when it was ultimately his actions that led to this unfortunate practice?)_

Watching her fumble under Lady Vivienne’s harsh gaze, he found his anger dissipate almost as quickly as it had formed. She was so quick to feel humiliation. The girl's ears were bright pink once more, and he could see her instinctively pull the surrounding magic towards herself, wrapping it around like a blanket. He doubted she was even aware of doing it; Inera had done the same when they conversed that night in the Hinterlands. It was almost…endearing? It was something a child might do.

 _(Though she was certainly no child.)_  
  
The girl was far too trusting of those few she deemed worthy of it.

_(“How would you stop them?” “However I had to.” Her face had been so determined. Her violet eyes steely. Dark hair blowing in the breeze. She truly believed those words.)_

Naïve as she was, Inera was almost frighteningly perceptive in her judgements, even when she _was_ a child. Her embarrassed confession to him was not nearly so foolish as she feared. How else could her vallaslin, which she admitted to drawing herself, be so terrifyingly close to his own imagery? It was based off of this friend of hers, she had said, not some ancient relic. Plus, had he not awakened at the same time that this friend disappeared?

_(And had he not thought that his last years of slumber were more peaceful than the rest? What if that was her doing?)_

The coincidence was unthinkable. Unreal. In this dead, short-lived world, how had one girl’s life managed to intersect with his in so many ways? It was confounding. He was not one to believe in fate, but how could this be simple chance? And what did this mean for his already-once-ruined plans?

Between Inera Lavellan and Corypheus, he was at a loss. They were complications he did not anticipate, and this frustrated him beyond belief. He wanted to hate them both.

_(But the girl, Inera…he couldn’t find it in himself to hate her. Not as he saw her struggle under the circle mage’s tutelage, ears perpetually pink. Nor as he saw the resentment in her eyes at being forced to mold herself into human standards. And especially not in the crease between her eyebrows, a clear sign of her focus.)_

Before anything could be solved, they needed to seal the Breach, and he could start by offering to teach the young elf _properly_. She would need it, even if they managed to procure an alliance with the Mages.

_(And it would give him the opportunity to observe her more closely.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I continue writing, I probably won't do much from Solas's POV (it's freaking hard), but I felt like it would be a good idea to show how he sees her in the beginning.


	3. Focus

When Solas first offered to teach her, Inera had been ecstatic. And why wouldn't she be? His knowledge of the Fade and Ancient Arlathan seemed unmatched, and now she had a legitimate reason to approach him and voice her questions, magic related or no. The possibilities were extraordinary, really. Almost suspiciously so, if she was being honest with herself. How could he possibly know that what he saw wasn't just the product of his imagination? He must've had _some_ way of fact checking, _some_ point of comparison.

For now though, she was content to allow herself to be carried away by the sound of his voice. It was just so soothing, almost musical. And the stories he told…unimaginably beautiful. They made her ache for a world she had never known. But _oh_ how she wanted to!

It took all of her willpower to remain focused; he _was_ trying to teach her, after all.

Though he seemed unconcerned with actually changing what Vivienne had called “bad habits” or “poor form”. In fact, he seemed almost…impressed with her relationship to magic. Apparently it was surprisingly close to how spirits manipulated the fade (though he did warn her of its potential unreliability in the physical world). His lessons on magic were more focused on getting her to understand _how_ her spells worked and _why_ the magic sometimes reacted as it did. Much more useful. Keeper Deshanna had touched on it, but she didn’t have nearly the understanding Solas did.

Despite his disdain for the Dalish, Inera found herself truly coming to respect this man.

She wanted to know more about him personally, but he rarely let any details slip. He rarely seemed to let anything slip, actually. It was frustrating, especially after he managed to tear through her walls in one of their first conversations. (He hadn’t brought up the topic of her vallaslin again, though she caught him staring more than once.)

Which is why this day’s conversation was entirely unexpected.

* * *

 

“You train your will to control magic and withstand possession; your indomitable focus is an enjoyable side benefit,” he smiled, “You have chosen a path whose steps you do not dislike because it leads to a destination you enjoy, as have I.”

They had found a quiet spot just outside of Haven soon after she'd accepted Solas's offer. The two of them often sat together after practicing, and he answered any questions Inera might have thought up. This evening, she’d finally worked up to asking Solas about himself, and unsurprisingly, their conversation still revolved around magic and the Fade, but…

“Indomitable focus?” It was such a blatant compliment, and slipped in there so causally…she was completely thrown. He hadn’t done that before.

“Presumably," his tone turned playful, "I have yet to see it dominated. I imagine that the sight would be…fascinating.”

Mythal save her, was he _flirting?_ With _her?_

“Shall we test that some time?”

Worse still, _had she just flirted back?_ Oh Creators, that breathy voice couldn't have possibly come from her mouth! But judging by the amused look on his face…it had. She could’ve happily allowed the ground to swallow her up. His eyes were glittering, his lips were tilted into a smirk, and his sweater was pulled taught over his reclining form. Had he always seemed this handsome? _Fenedhis!_

“Perhaps,” he said slowly, obviously drawing out her embarrassment, “But we can save that for another day, Inera.”

His gaze burned into her, and her name rolled from his tongue so…sensuously. He was enjoying this entirely too much. Her entire body was aflame (with _embarrassment_ ). Inera scrambled up.

She had to leave. Now.

“Well then, uh…thank you again for your time, Solas,” she squeaked, “I'll just…see you tomorrow? When we set out? Yes…”

Without even waiting for a response, Inera turned and ran. _Wonderful, now he would think her a blushing virgin who couldn’t even manage to flirt properly._

She could wonder why that bothered her later, once the sound of his full-bodied laughter ceased ringing in her ears.

* * *

 The next morning, Solas was back to his usual calm and reserved self. She was jealous. Inera could barely stand to even look in his general direction.

Thankfully, they would soon begin their journey back to Redcliffe, and this would give her time to compose herself and get that damned elf off her mind. They had Alexius to deal with after all. He had something planned, and they all would need their wits about them if the trap was to be avoided.

And this Dorian person…she might not trust him, but he was excellent at filling up any awkward silences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep saying it might take me a while, and yet I keep writing...


	4. Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Inera realizes how important Solas has become.

Since their return to Haven, Inera’s mind had been fluctuating between forced detachment and sheer panic. They had gained the mages as allies, true, but any joy she might have felt was tainted by fear.

She reported to the advisors, as was expected; she told them everything and answered all their questions. ( _Everything she could bear to tell, that is._ ) Cullen wasn’t happy. Neither was Cassandra, but at least she didn’t yell at her. If Dorian hadn’t distracted them when he did…well, she might’ve burst into tears right there. _She was so weak._ When he indicated his wish to join, she couldn’t deny him, nor would she allow the others a chance to reject him. Trust may still have been an issue, but he wanted to help, and he _had_ already helped.

Which brought their conversation towards the Breach, and her to where she was now.

After asking them for time to prepare, Inera fled the Chantry and headed towards the only place she felt comfortable: right outside Haven, the same place she and Solas had claimed. As soon as she reached it, Inera collapsed against a tree, drawing her knees tightly to her chest, hands clenched tight to keep from shaking. Her forehead dipped to touch her knees, and the floodgates keeping her anxiety at bay broke open.

_What if it didn’t work? What if the mage’s help wasn’t enough? What if she wasn’t capable of actually closing the Breach? She knew what was at stake now. Red. So much red. Growing out of the walls. Growing out of people. That awful horrible terrible future…it still hadn’t registered in her mind that it had been real. It happened. It wasn’t a dream._

If she didn’t succeed, everyone would be dead, or worse. _So much red._

“There’s no use fretting, Inera.”

Her head snapped up. Solas. Of course. _He had been red too._

“Stop _doing_ that!” she snarled.

He had been moving to sit down next to her, but paused and raised his hands. A gesture of peace. He seemed to feel guilty, and she almost felt bad for yelling. _She saw it…he gave his life for her_.

“My apologies,” he said, now standing awkwardly, as if unsure of what to do with himself.

“It’s fine,” Inera offered, “just…don’t do it again.”

Solas stared for a moment before shaking his head and bending down in front of her, not quite sitting, but not quite kneeling. It was a wary pose, one that would allow him to exit the scene easily, should she choose the lash out again. But despite this, he gave her a gentle smile. _A smile, a real smile. He was not red yet_.

“Very well,” he said, his words soft, “In the future, I shall endeavor to make sure my movements are louder. But, for now, do you wish to talk?”

He was treating her as one might treat a cornered, wild animal. But she supposed that’s what she must look like. Her hands were still shaking, her eyes were wide, and she knew that most of her hair had escaped its usual bun. In short, she was mess.

And Solas was witness to it. _But he was offering to help her, eyes still blue_.

“No,” she heard herself say. _Why?_

Solas, however, didn’t seem surprised, and took it in stride, that gentle smile not faltering in the slightest. _Focus on the smile_.

“Then we will sit, and wait, until you feel ready to face the world once more.”

And so they did. He joined her, moving to lean against the tree beside her. Inera watched him as he stretched out his legs and rested his head against the rough bark, eyes now closed. Her own vision quickly became blurred by unshed tears.

Here, in this moment, she was reminded of her sleeping wolf. She wanted so badly to reach out and hold him, to let loose and finally cry as she hadn’t in months. _How many times had she done just that, as a child?_

But she didn’t.

No matter how this might feel, Solas was not that friend, and he had never touched her, not even by accident. This silent companionship though...she would take it, and treasure it.

It was the only scrap of friendship and stability she had found in the surrounding chaos.

* * *

  
When dusk began to fall, Inera decided she was ready. She had to tackle the Breach soon, or face that future regardless. Might as well do it now, while her mind had regained some stability.

If Solas was also worried, he hid it well. He smiled, calm as ever, and told her he would ready the mages while she gathered the advisers.

She could do this. She had to. The world could not be red.


	5. Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Solas realizes and denies Inera's importance to himself.

It was ultimately unsurprising how little they had to wait before Corypheus revealed himself. The Tevinter Magister wouldn’t take the closure of the Breach quietly, nor would his pride allow the holder of the Anchor to live. Corypheus was here for the Herald.

_(For Inera.)_

Solas was not yet ready for that to happen. The Magister was likely still in possession of his orb, and it was imperative that he recover it. He needed the Inquisition’s power and influence (burgeoning as it was), and the organization needed their figurehead.

_(His own feelings on the Herald were beside the point.)_

He had to continue to feign ignorance, for fear that he would reveal too much of himself too soon. Should Inera realize the part he had to play in this unfortunate series of events…well, all of his carefully cultured trust would be lost.

_(And that bothered him more than he wanted to admit.)_

Luckily, he would not be out of place fighting by her side. The inevitable confrontation would be hers alone to face, but he could aid her in surviving long enough to reach it.

* * *

 The dragon was…entirely unexpected.

_(How many times must this vile being surprise him?)_

He was beginning to feel stirrings of panic at the edge of thoughts, though he was far from alone. A feeling of dread hung heavy in the air of the Chantry.

“If you know what he wants from me, _please_ just say it!”

The frantic voice drew him from his thoughts, and despite how dire their situation seemed, he couldn’t help but admire Inera’s endless desire to understand. Wide-eyed, with shaking hands and uneven breathing, he was reminded of the wild state he found her in only hours earlier. But now there was no time to offer comfort.

He only hoped she could hold herself together.

* * *

 Admiration.

It was the only word that could even remotely describe his feelings in that moment. They could only watch with bated breath as the Herald’s small frame faced down Corypheus and his dragon, both seeming larger than life, and it was all to give the town a slim chance of evacuating.

But Inera stood straight and strong, and he could see her blanket of magic holding the panic in check.

_(He knew how afraid she must be, and this strong, clever, admirable woman…she didn’t let it consume her. How any of them could have once thought her meek, he didn’t know. They had been blind.)_

And then she was gone.

* * *

 He didn’t want to believe she was dead. She couldn’t be. He _needed_ her.

The _Inquisition_ needed her, he corrected himself, and he needed the Inquisition. Inera had given them the chance they needed to escape, and he couldn’t hesitate to take it.

* * *

 He was standing at the outskirts of their camp when he heard the yelling.

_“It’s the Herald! She’s alive, she’s alive!”_

Inera was _alive_. Identifying every one of the feelings coursing through his body was impossible, but he knew that disbelief was at the forefront of them all.

How had she managed to cheat death? _Again_?

This woman… _This. Woman._

How many more times could she surprise him, this woman who wore his image on her face with such confidence? Who bore his mark and used it successfully? Who had faced down Corypheus alone and _lived_?

If he was left in awe, then these events would only solidify her divinity in the eyes of everyone present. Only a fool would let this opportunity pass him by. Being seen as close to the Herald…

He would continue to guide her, explaining objects and events as they occurred. It would be easy enough to wave away how he gained such knowledge, the Fade was barely understood by these people, and Inera would hopefully be too intrigued to question him closely.

_(She was too easy to talk with. Open, eager to learn, to understand. If he wasn’t careful, he would reveal too much and not even notice.)_

He would start with the orb. It was elven, and he could not hide that fact forever. The humans would tear down their Herald as quickly as they raised her, if they knew. But, if he told Inera and impressed upon her the need for secrecy, they might be given time enough to counter it.

_(The guilt he would experience for his continued manipulation of Inera could be dealt with later.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like this one, but I felt like it was too important a series of events to skip over, and I do want to release these in chronological order.


	6. Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fade tongue ahead!

She found him in the rotunda, though she didn’t recall when she had started looking.

“Inquisitor!” Solas exclaimed, for once startled by her, “I’m surprised to see you here.”

Inera frowned at his use of the title. Her name had not crossed his lips once since they settled into Skyhold, and she found herself missing the sound of it dearly over the past couple of weeks.

“Inera,” she said.

“Pardon?” he seemed confused, so she clarified.

“My name, you stopped saying it…but I’d prefer if you used it.”

She also didn’t need another reminder of her new found responsibilities. _That was a nightmare, but this…this could be her escape._

“Ah,” he said, “Of course. My apologies.”

Normally, Inera would be embarrassed for causing his sudden awkwardness, but instead she smiled. Now wasn’t the time for that.

“We should get to know each other, Solas,” she continued, “Your company has been invaluable.”

Now he seemed amused by her, and he chuckled, his guard finally let down.

“Of course,” he said with a grin, “but let us go somewhere more interesting than this.”

They were in Haven now, meandering towards their usual place. Snow was falling, but she found herself cool, rather than freezing. It was lovely. On impulse, she stuck out her tongue to catch a snowflake, and when she did, she turned to Solas triumphantly. He was still smiling, and his posture was more relaxed than she had ever seen it.

“We never thought you would wake up,” he said suddenly, but softly, “I sat there for days, studying the Anchor, trying to keep it from consuming you...and nothing. I feared the worst.”

The heavy topic did nothing to deflate her high spirits. She only giggled.

“Days? Didn’t that get boring? It can’t have taken that long to study the mark.”

He merely shook his head, still amused by her antics, but now intent.

“There was more to learn than you might think,” he said cryptically, “but still, after three days, I was preparing myself to flee. Cassandra even threatened to have me executed.”

Inera couldn’t help but snort, “I don’t see where you could have possibly fled to, I imagine Cassandra’s wrath would have found you no matter what, never mind the large Breach threatening the whole world.”

“Yes, well, I never said it was a good plan,” Solas admitted sheepishly, “and you did wake up, after all.”

“Good thing I did!”

“Very much so,” he agreed, “more than you realize, Inera. When you sealed that rift with naught but a gesture…I felt my whole world change.”

He was looking at her. _Truly looking at her, not at her vallaslin, but at her._ She felt light and airy, as if her body could float away at any moment.

“The whole world changed?” she repeated in wonder, a smile slowly forming. He was looking at her so softly, so gently.

“A figure of speech.”

She giggled again, “I’m aware.”

And now his look grew intense, almost desperate. Lost? Inera couldn’t look away, and she found herself stepping closer and closer. _His eyes were so beautiful, so expressive._ Every emotion was written plainly on his face, and she was utterly mesmerized.

“You change…everything,” Solas breathed. They were so close, she could feel its warmth brush past her cheeks.

She had to touch him.

He tried to look away, as if unsure of himself, but Inera’s hand found his cheek and guided his gaze back to hers. _So warm…_  
  
Something in him seemed to snap at her touch, and his hands flew to her hips, pulling her towards him. She gasped, but it was quickly swallowed up by impossibly smooth lips moving against hers.

Solas was _kissing_ her.

And he was, desperately. One hand had moved to tangle itself in her hair, tilting her head back, while at the same time the other pulled her hips in even closer, if that was possible. He shifted her body so that one of his thighs was pressed against a place that was long untouched by anyone but herself. At this point, his arms were the only thing supporting her, but she hardly noticed. Inera was too focused on the overload of sensations coursing through her body, Solas seemed to be everywhere at once. Her hands grasped at his tunic as she felt his tongue caress hers. They came apart for air once…twice…and it was over.

So dazed was Inera that Solas’s next words barely registered.

“We shouldn’t,” he said, still breathless, “not even here.”

“Even here..?” she repeated, breaking away from his wide-eyed gaze to take in her surroundings.

Suddenly, it all made sense: her confidence, the slight haze, and the heightened sensations. Inera looked back at him. The moment had passed, she knew, but she was reluctant to let go, lest he disappear.

“This…isn’t real. It’s just a dream?”

He chuckled softly. “Not just a dream, no, but that’s best discussed after you _wake up._ ”

* * *

 Heart still pounding, Inera shot up in her bed.

_Please let that have been real._


	7. Confessions

They had only been in Skyhold a few weeks, but the Inquisition was already making quick progress in restoring the abandoned fortress. Lady Josephine’s doing, no doubt. She was a wonder when it came to pulling strings.

Of course, claiming and furnishing a room for their newly declared Inquisitor was one of the first things accomplished, even as said Inquisitor pleaded that they shouldn’t bother. In the end though, Solas knew that Inera relished having a private space to call her own. It’s where she spent most of her evenings, and after that kiss in the Fade…he couldn’t help but want to spend some of his own with her.

_(It was a dangerous road, but one he was finding impossible to leave. Every time he looked at her, his waking nightmare seemed more and more a dream that he was loathe to end.)_

Tonight was another such night. They were both settled on her couch, close, but not quite touching. Inera sat with her feet tucked under, engrossed in a book on magical theory. Likely one of Dorian’s. That friendship was…highly unexpected, but he would respect it as best he could.

He also was attempting to read, it was vital that he study the impact the Veil had on this world and its mages, but Solas was finding it difficult to concentrate. His mind, and gaze, kept drifting towards the woman sitting beside him.

_(“Why do you bother reading those?” She had asked one night, “You know so much, and certainly more than any Chantry scholar.”_

_“Most likely, but it never hurts to source out second opinions…even if they come from a Chantry scholar.”_

_It was part of the truth, at least. He needn’t tell her that he was making comparisons to his own time.)_

Despite the simple beauty of this moment, his thoughts were somber. He didn’t relish the need to keep his identity a secret from her, but one look at her face was enough to remind him of the necessity, of _why_ he needed to maintain some distance. He lifted a finger to gently trace the lines tattooed across her cheek, and then down the front of her throat.

_(She didn’t even realize what they implied...The very idea sickened him.)_

Inera shivered and breathed in sharply, but he left his hand to rest on her shoulder, thumb caressing her collarbone. When she turned to look at him, confusion was evident in her expression. Was it his imagination, or did he see hints of green creeping in behind the violet of her eyes?

_(It was so easy to forget that he was looking at a dying woman. She might have survived gaining the Anchor, but her body would ultimately be unable to handle its power.)_

“Solas? Is something wrong?”

Her quiet voice brought him out of his thoughts once more.

“It’s nothing, Inera.”

How could he possibly explain? Solas felt the sudden urge to leave. He couldn’t, shouldn’t, be doing this. Snapping his book closed, he made to stand up, but Inera’s hand darted out to grab his, preventing him from getting any further. He paused his movements and turned face her, patient as ever.

“Not yet,” she said, almost pleading, “there’s something I…need to tell you.”

“Oh?” He asked, concerned now by the obvious the tension in her face.

_(Had he truly been so absorbed in his own mind that he hadn't noticed?)_

“I know you said you needed time to think everything over, after we kissed,” she spoke so quickly, words were stumbling over each other, “but I haven’t been completely honest, and it’s not fair, I’ve been sitting here trying to work up the courage, but you should know. I should tell you…”

Shame washed over him as he recalled his own lies, but whatever this was about, Inera was working herself into a panic.

“Hush,” he said, squeezing her hand, “take a deep breath. I promise not to judge you, no matter what you need to say.”

_(It couldn’t be more damning than his own secrets.)_

He watched her as she followed his advice, closing her eyes, and breathing in. Her pulse still beat wildly, but after brushing the hair from her face, Inera seemed to gather herself well enough to speak coherently.

“I wasn’t supposed to be there,” she began hesitantly, “at the Conclave.”

“Yes,” he said bemusedly, “we all know that. Your clan sent you as a spy.”

But she just shook her head. “You misunderstand… _I_ wasn’t supposed to be there. My Keeper, she gave the task to one of our hunters, and I went in her place.”

 _Ah_. Solas could sense the direction this was heading, but asked for clarification regardless.

“You were the clan’s First, did no one stop you?”

She turned to him, eyes intently searching for a reaction. He kept his expression blank.

“I didn’t give them the chance,” Inera admitted, “that hunter was...a dear friend of mine, and she helped. The morning she was to leave, we switched clothes, pulled up our hoods...and I left without intending to return.”

Remembering one of their first conversations, Solas realized this revelation wasn't entirely shocking, but that didn't stop him from experiencing a pang of disappointment. He tried as best he could to keep that from bleeding into the tone of his voice. 

“So you abandoned your clan and your duties, presumably to avoid future responsibility. Do I have the gist of it?”

Inera stood, extracting her hand from his, and moved to stare out the balcony doors. By now the sun had set, and she was illuminated almost entirely by the pale glow of the moon. Her posture screamed defeat.

“I did my clan a favor, Solas,” she whispered, “It’s no secret that I’d make a poor leader.”

Despite any disappointment he might’ve been feeling, Solas felt his heart ache at her words and the depressing image she presented.

_(If only she could see herself through his eyes...then she might realize how wrong she was. How ignorant her clan must've been.)_

He rose and walked towards her, not bothering to exaggerate his movements; Solas could see her eyes following him in the reflection of the glass. When he stood behind her, he rested his hands on her slumped shoulders and leaned down so that his lips almost brushed the tip of her ear.

“It seems that leadership has found you regardless, Inquisitor,” he reminded her gently.

He was unsure how she would react, but Inera let out a laugh, and he could see a wry smile had formed in her reflection.

“And I’m sure I’ll make a mess of it,” she said.

He smiled back, hopefully reassuringly. “That remains to be seen.”

They stood in silence for a few moments longer before Solas decided once again that he needed to leave.

_(He still had plenty to think over in addition to this confession.)_

When he voiced as much, she nodded, but otherwise gave no response. Giving her shoulders one last squeeze, he turned to go. It seemed she also desired time to think, but when he reached the top of the stairs, Inera gave voice to a final question, so quiet he almost missed it:

“Do you think me a coward now, Solas?”

He found he didn’t need to hesitate with his answer.

“No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how have I been doing? :o  
> (Also, I'm totally open to any feedback or ideas!)


	8. Gift

When Solas said he had something to show her, Inera wasn't sure what to expect. 

But it wasn't _this_. 

They hadn’t talked much since her confession the other night. She’d been worried sick, but apparently needn’t have bothered. He intercepted her the moment she came down from her room this morning, brimming with barely contained excitement. _She could see why, her own would boil over any second now._

There, on the wall, was a fresco painted in the style of the Ancient Elves.

“Is this what I think it is?”

_Oh Creators, it was absolutely stunning._

“That depends,” he said with a raised eyebrow, “what are you thinking of?”

She shot him a mock glare. “ _Solas,_ you know what I mean. This…this looks like a perfect replication of ancient techniques! How…? Did _you_ do this? No, don’t answer that, I know you did.” 

He laughed, but Inera could see that he enjoyed the reaction. Solas was positively _preening._

“I take that you like it?” he asked. Apparently her over-large grin wasn’t obvious enough for him, or maybe he just wanted to hear her say it? She’d indulge his pride; this _was_ highly impressive.

“I love it!” she said, with full sincerity, “I’m amazed you can do this…Is there anything about the Ancient Ways that you _don’t_ know?”

Surprisingly, Solas seemed almost…embarrassed? _No, not quite that._ Well, whatever it was, Solas coughed and looked away before answering, his hands clasped behind his back.

“You would be surprised by what one can learn in the Fade. Spirits are an excellent source of knowledge.”

_Vague, as always._

“I’m more curious how _you_ recognized the technique.”

She raised an eyebrow. Apparently he was also desperate for a change in topic. _Fine, he could keep his secrets, but that explanation would only work so many times._

“My clan had a fragment of one that was recovered from some ruins, I don’t know where exactly,” she shrugged, “but Keeper Deshanna showed it to me after finding some of my drawings. I’ve been fascinated ever since.”

“You draw? I had no idea.” His eyes lit up almost immediately, interest obviously piqued.

“And I had no idea _you_ were a painter,” she teased, “I guess we’re both full of surprises.”

“Indeed.”

Solas was staring at her fondly now, she noticed. A warm, fluttery sensation began blooming in her stomach, and Inera felt her hand twitch. She was aching to reach out to him, but held herself back. _He said he needed time._ At the rate he was thinking, this limbo would kill her before Corypheus.

“Did you take notice of the subject matter of my paintings, _Inquisitor_?” he said, his tone growing deeper.

When he said her title like _that_.. _._ he must know the effect his voice had on her. _Focus._ She forced herself to turn back to the fresco and take in the imagery, eyes scouring every detail. _Inquisitor…Inquisitor…_ When it clicked into place, she gasped.

_No…_

“Does it still please you, Inera?”

Wide-eyed, she slowly approached the wall and reached out, almost reverently, to rest her palm on what must’ve represented the Conclave. If she had thought it beautiful before, then now she was in awe. Tears began pooling unbidden in her eyes. _She didn’t deserve this._

“Solas,” she breathed, “This is…”

“The story of the Inquisition. _Your_ story. Immortalized in paint and plaster,” he finished for her.

Inera turned and flung her arms around Solas’s waist. The sudden movement took him by surprise, but after a moment, she felt a hand hesitantly place itself on the back of her neck. She clung to him even tighter.

“ _Thank you._ ”

She felt, rather than heard, the rumbling of his chuckle reverberate against her cheek, pressed as it was into his chest.

“I have to admit, leaving you in tears was not one of my intended goals.”

A playful swat was her only response to that. But still, she wiped away the accumulated moisture before breaking away to study the fresco once again. She gazed around the room as well, taking in the remaining blank space. The design seemed open-ended...was he planning on filling up the whole wall? The reminder of how much the Inquisition had left to do made her stomach drop. _Probably best to focus on happier things, for now._

“Since I missed seeing the process in action, can I trust you to write it down for me? Once we deal with the missing Wardens, of course,” she asked.

“I see no harm in it,” Solas responded after a pause, “but I imagine a visual example would be more useful?”

Inera grinned triumphantly.

“It would!” she said, throwing a playful glance over her shoulder, “Let’s just hope I give you something more inspirational to work with than the world exploding.”

If his goal was to restore her pitiful sense self-worth, Solas had succeeded. Hopefully, this feeling would be enough to sustain her through the next inevitable breakdown. People were counting on her to save them. She had to prove, to herself above all, that Solas’s confidence was not misplaced.


	9. Trust

Solas had just gotten comfortable in his bedroll when he heard footsteps approaching. They paused a few feet from his tent, and then retreated; he almost dismissed it when the person turned back around, taking a few more slow steps towards him. This caused him to sit up in confusion, though not alarm. The chances of someone wishing him harm were slim, camped in the middle of the Inquisition’s army as they were. So who in the world would need him at this hour?

“Solas?” came a hesitant voice, “are you awake?”

_(Of course, question answered.)_

The first thing he noticed upon opening his tent flap was how violently Inera was shaking. Eyebrows furrowed in concern, Solas took her hands and led her over to his bedroll, where he gently sat them both down.

“I'm sorry,” she blurted out, “I shouldn't be bothering you. It’s too late for this. I'm being inconsiderate. I should let you go back to sleep…”

She was about to stand up, but seeing as he still held her hands captive in his, she didn't get very far. The throes of panic were upon her again, and it wouldn't do to let her suffer alone, not when they were mere days from Adamant Fortress.

 _(His heart warmed. She trusted him enough come to_ him _for comfort. He would have to be cruel in order to turn her away.)_

“Inera,” he said, halting her rambling, “you are _never_ a bother.”

He could see she didn't trust that statement, but it was not unexpected. It was enough that she was no longer attempting to leave. Still, he was reluctant to release her hands. They appeared so fragile, yet he could feel the magic swirling protectively around her fingertips.

_(Only this time, he noticed it move to embrace him as well.)_

Tired as he was, it was almost enough to tempt him into a deep sleep. Solas forced his gaze back towards the woman seated before him. Her eyes were wide open and unblinking, but struggling to remain focused.

“Tell me what troubles you,” he prompted softly. Solas saw her eyelids flicker shut, but she remained silent. Minutes passed, and he tried to remain patient. Last time, Inera refused to talk, but he had hoped that this time…

Finally, a sigh escaped her lips, and he saw them begin to form words, though no sound emerged. A few tears rolled down her cheeks, and her hands gripped his painfully hard.

“I c-can't do this,” Inera forced out between harsh uneven breaths, “I…I've _never…_ I’m no warrior, no commander, how do they expect me to lead them? _Ma halani,_ Solas, I can't do this. I don't _want_ to do this! I don't belong on a battlefield…”

Her spirit was too pure for this wretched world, he was realizing.

_(If things were different…)_

But they were not, and so he must focus his efforts on the here and now. There was no other way but forward, and he had to make sure Inera stayed afloat. It seemed that either no one else could be bothered, or he was the only one she trusted with her vulnerabilities.

“I know _, lethallan,_ but you are capable,” he reminded her, “and no one is expecting you to do this alone.”

“I _feel_ alone,” she choked out, “if anything goes wrong, or if we fail, _I'm_ the one who’ll be blamed. Not Cullen, or Cassandra, or Leliana…just me.”

How does one comfort someone when they were right to worry? A lone elf among these humans…Inera was in a dangerous position. It _was_ vital that she keep them content, he had known as much from the very beginning. But as an outsider himself, even more so than her, he had little to offer in terms of practical advice, let alone advice that would not add to her anxieties.

“They are just people, and people are mercurial things. You can't let yourself be bothered by them,” he tried.

_(Empty words.)_

She went silent again, but this time he knew she must be gathering her thoughts, rather than closing off. He entwined their fingers together, and wished he could offer more.

“And yet nothing terrifies me more than ‘just people’,” came her quiet admittance, “even more than the coming battle…I fear their judgment. I always have, even when I know it's irrational."

She wasn't exaggerating, quite the opposite he thought. It certainly made her role as Inquisitor all the more tragically ironic. It seemed Inera had escaped one nightmare only to land herself in another. One that she could not simply run away from, and likely one worse than she could have possibly imagined.

_(It was a situation he could too easily empathize with.)_

_"Fenedhis_ , I am so weak,” she sobbed, “this is pathetic.”

Tears were flowing freely now, he noticed, but that was not necessarily a bad thing; plenty had cried over far less than being faced with their greatest fear. He felt stirrings of admiration, similar to that which had washed over him that fateful night in Haven. Pushing aside whispers that reminded him to stay cautious, Solas coaxed Inera into his lap and embraced her.

“Everyone has moments of weakness,” he reassured her, “it does not mean _you_ are weak.”

And he truly meant it. Her strength might not be obvious, but he had no doubt of its existence.

_(For someone like her to grace this world, at so young an age...more than ever, he regretted the actions that ultimately stole her immortality. Could she ever reach her true potential, now?)_

She gave no response, but none was needed. He held her until the sobs subsided and her breathing fell into a steady rhythm. Between the warmth of her body, the gentle curls of her magic, and the quiet darkness, Solas was finding it difficult to keep his eyes open. Sunrise would be here in a matter of hours, and with it the continued trek towards the Warden's fortress. They both needed to rest, but he was loathe to send Inera back to her tent alone. On an impulse, he carefully laid back and rearranged their bodies so that they would fit comfortably on the surface of his bedroll. She followed his lead willingly, and Solas thought he caught a mumbled, " _ma serannas_ ," before he saw her drift off into sleep.       

_(This would surely get certain tongues wagging.)_

But as he watched Inera curl up next to him, the stress draining from her features, he couldn't bring himself to care. If he had thought to avoid developing feelings…it was far too late. All he could do now was try to manage them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for writing yet another panic attack. >.>  
> (This was necessary, I swear!)  
> Elvish:  
> "Ma halani" = Help me.


	10. Shift

Inera was worried.

It had been two weeks since they’d left Solas in _Dirthavaren_ to grieve his friend, and he hadn’t returned.

_Was he even planning on returning?_

No. She couldn’t let her thoughts drift that way. He needed time. That was understandable. Solas would come back when he was ready, and she shouldn’t let herself be distracted. Josephine and Leliana were growing frustrated with her absentmindedness. They were to leave for the Winter Palace in about a month’s time, and the pair was adamant that she learn every intricate detail of the “Game” possible. As far as Inera was concerned, the Dread Wolf could take them all and she’d happily wash her hands of these _shemlen_ and their mess.

_She’d let Solas kill those foolish mages. Was that a mistake? Should she have intervened?_

And there her thoughts went, once again. It would do her no good to dwell this, or what could’ve been. She’d done her best, they all did, to save his friend, but the grieving process was his alone. She knew it then, and she should remember that now. Besides, those mages would've likely tried to bind another spirit in their ignorant arrogance. After everything she’d experienced in Adamant, with Cole, and otherwise, she found herself agreeing whole-heartedly with Solas’s insistence that they were people. Different, perhaps, but still undeserving of such cruelty.

_But she’d barely given him a word of comfort. What if he did need more?_

If he did, then Solas wouldn’t have requested they leave him. It was as simple as that.

“Inquisitor, are you even _listening_ to me?”

Right. Orlesian history lessons with Josephine. Hadn’t she just been contemplating that? Inera sat up and smiled sheepishly at the now-irate woman in front of her. Since she didn’t actually have Fen’Harel at her beck and call, she really _should_ be attempting to learn to learn how to make it through this thing in one piece…

But just as she opened her mouth to apologize, an Inquisition soldier burst into the room, much Josephine’s chagrin. He flinched at the resulting glare.

“P-pardon me for intruding, but the Herald gave orders to…”

_Solas!_

“Has he returned, then?” Inera blurted out.

The poor man nodded, wide-eyed and obviously uncomfortable being subjected to the two women’s intense scrutiny. Inera told herself she’d apologize the next time she saw him. Now, all she cared about was getting to the front gates as soon as possible.

Jumping out of her chair, she shouted, “I’ll be back,” before bolting out the door of Josephine’s study.

A sigh and a resigned, “ _Thirty minutes, Inquisitor!”_ could be heard in response, but Inera’s attention too far gone to register it.

* * *

 When she saw Solas, she forced herself to slow down. As much as she wanted to run over and embrace him, now wasn't the time. His gaze was focused downwards, and his stance had little of its usual confidence, though she could see he was trying, even more so once he spotted her. She had to make sure he was ok.

“Solas,” she said, halting her approach before she got too close, “I...we were worried for you. How are you feeling?”

He tried to give her a reassuring smile, but it fell flat. The result was an empty twitch of his lips.

“It hurts, it always does, but I will survive,” he hesitated before delivering his next words, “ _Ma melava halani_ , Inera.”

Her heart ached at the implications of his seemingly innocuous statement. How many friends had he lost over the years? Why did he seem so surprised that she would help him? And the elvish...it felt so intimate. She wanted to reach out to him, but there were too many people watching. Cursing her haste, she wished that she’d waited until he’d settled in. Now they would both need to maintain the illusion of formality.

“ _Ara melava son’ganem_. I could never turn away a friend in need, least of all one who’s done so much for me,” she paused, watching for his response, “Next time, just know that you don’t have to be alone.”

Solas seemed visibly shocked by her words, and obviously unsure how to respond. His eyes widened briefly, and he shifted his weight from one leg to other.

“I...thank you. It’s been so long since I could trust someone.” There was more gratitude in his tone than he seemed able to express.

“I know.”

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but instead she watched as he shook his head and pulled her in for a hug. Brief as it was, Inera still felt the trembles he was trying so hard to hide behind that calm facade. She didn’t want to leave him in this state, but they both had work to do. Back and forth, she debated returning to Josephine. _Damn it, she’ll have my head for this._

“I think I would prefer that your head remain where it is.”

“Shit, sorry!” Inera felt the heat creep up her cheeks. She hadn’t meant to say that aloud, and a joke about dying seemed in poor taste, given the circumstances. Solas, however, merely chuckled. It wasn’t nearly as hearty as usual, but at least she still managed to amuse him. That had to be a good sign, right? She hadn’t even noticed her head had turned down until gentle fingers tilted it back up. Like the hug, the touch was short-lived, but it wasn’t out of a lack of desire for contact. Inera could tell by the way his hand caressed her chin before lowering ever so slowly to his side.

“No need to apologize,” he muttered. His gaze was intense, yet contemplative. Whatever he was thinking, she couldn’t even begin to guess. Drawn out as it seemed, the moment lasted only seconds before his expression lightened and a hint of a true smile began to appear.

“Come,” he said, “let us find a place to sit, and you can tell me whom you seem to have offended so terribly.”

Something between them had shifted, and though she couldn’t place her finger on what exactly that was, Inera couldn’t help but feel a small warmth blooming within her chest.

_Orlesian politics could wait, at least for a little while._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will probably continue to take longer, now that I'm officially drowning in schoolwork from all my classes.  
> Elvish (From Project Elvhen/the wiki):  
> "Ma melava halani" = You have spent your time to help me/You helped me.  
> "Ara melava son'ganem" = My time was well spent.


	11. Decisions

Solas was seated at his desk, hunched over an open tome, but he wasn't truly reading. His mind was too preoccupied with a certain woman. A woman who was currently spending her time with the Tevinter mage one floor up.

He was falling for her. Perhaps he already had, though he wasn’t sure when it happened. The idea terrified him…how could he actually love this mortal woman? How was that even possible? How was _she_ even possible? Inera was a light in the darkness, illuminating everything around her. Where he had once only felt cold and seen death, she brought warmth and life. Being around her was intoxicating, addicting even. He never expected this, especially not of one of the Dalish.

But a thought came to him, an explanation that settled in the pit of his stomach and brought bile up the back of his throat.

_(What if the woman he saw was merely a product of the Orb?)_

No. It couldn’t be, but it would make so much sense. Awful, awful sense.

(It gnawed at him. Its disgusting, snarling teeth tearing through all the hope he had built up, hope he never thought to feel again.)

It was then that he heard the sweet melody of her laughter rain down from above, and its effect on him was immediate. The sound was a balm to his frenzied mind. Whatever they were discussing, Inera was apparently enjoying herself. How she could tolerate Dorian’s presence, when he still held such problematic views, Solas could not understand.

_(And was there a tinge of irrational jealousy clouding his thoughts?)_

He wanted to believe himself above such pettiness, especially knowing how precious such a friendship must be to Inera, but it was difficult to deny as he sprang to his feet. He had questions that needed answering, he told himself. Why not seek the answers now? He would only further torture himself by waiting.

And so he found himself padding up the stairs and into the library. He attempted to exude his usual confidence as he approached the pair, but he had sinking feeling that both mages could see right through his façade.

“I don't wish to interrupt you, but do you have a moment, Inera?” he asked, rather obviously interrupting them.

Confusion was evident in her eyes, and he realized, even more keenly than before, how awkward he must be acting.

_(He refused to acknowledge his fidgeting.)_

“Trying to steal our dear Inquisitor away from me, are you?”

He briefly turned his head to face the insufferable mage sprawled oh-so-elegantly across the armchair, and he wanted dearly to wipe that knowing, cocky grin off the younger man’s face. For his dignity’s sake, Solas merely gave Dorian a tight-lipped smile before he turned back to Inera to await her response.

The woman in question was looking between the two of them with the most curious expression. Solas couldn’t tell if she was more concerned or amused. Either way, she pushed herself from the bookshelf she was leaning against to grace him with a gentle smile.

_(He was truly lost, for that alone was almost enough to make him melt on the spot.)_

“Of course,” she said, “So long as Dorian doesn’t mind?”

She turned herself back towards the mage, but he immediately raised both his hands and shook his head.

“No, no! By all means, don’t let me keep you,” Dorian insisted, his lips twitching into a smirk, “I’m sure Solas has something of the _utmost_ importance to discuss with you.”

His implied meaning wasn’t lost on Solas, but at least Inera only gave Dorian an exasperated sigh before stepping out of the nook to join him. Surprisingly, it was she who then took his arm to guide him towards her rooms. Still feeling off-kilter, Solas simply let her lead them up the stairs and out onto her balcony, the noble’s gossiping in the throne room be damned.

_(If his fears were unfounded, he would be more than happy to hint at his affections in public.)_

The sun was beginning to set now, and as Inera leaned herself against the stone railing, Solas found himself lost in way her hair glittered in the remaining rays of light. Reaching up, he gently fingered a strand that had come loose from its braid before tucking it securely behind her ear. Solas felt her shiver as his hand brushed the tip on its way down. Her eyes were gazing upon him with such hope and longing that he could almost give in to his desires right then.

_(But first he had to know, had to make sure this was real.)_

“What were you like? Before the Anchor?” he broached hesitantly.

He watched her eyes glance down in the direction of her palm before raising them to meet his once more.

“Is this what’s been bothering you?” she asked bemusedly, eyebrow raised, “Solas, we’ve talked about my life before…all of this.”

He nervously turned his face, trying in vain to phrase his concerns in a way that wouldn’t give himself away.

“I just…” he began, “Has it changed you in any way? Your mind? Your morals? Your…spirit?”

Inera tilted her head, her eyebrows furrowing. “No, not that I’ve noticed.”

“Ah.”

“Why?” she asked, “Have you noticed anything…wrong with me?”

“No,” he said with a small huff of amusement, “Quite the opposite, in actuality.”

At that, she grinned. “I’m relieved.”

He tried to return it, but his lips gave only a half-hearted twitch. Internally, he grimaced as her stare grew in intensity.

_(This was becoming impossibly difficult.)_

“Inera, you show a wisdom I have not seen since…” he fumbled, still attempting to explain, “since my deepest journeys into the Ancient memories of the Fade.”

She had swallowed that manner of excuse in the past, but Solas could tell she no longer believed him. Incredulity was etched into every corner of her face, and positively dripped from her next words.

“Whatever these _Ancient Memories_ of yours might be, I doubt I’m that remarkable.”

For a second, his eyes widened as he wondered if she had discovered something despite his efforts…but she made no move to accuse him, or to pull away.

“This is the part where you’re supposed to distract me by saying that I’m the most remarkable woman you’ve ever met.”

Despite the general state of his mood, Solas found himself letting out a bark of laughter. Truly, she had bloomed in short time he’d known her.

_(Or perhaps she was always this way, and one simply had to look in order to find it.)_

Resting a hand against her cheek, his amusement settled into deep desire for woman before him. Inera nuzzled herself into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed in the most endearing way, and a ghost of a smile still visible in the curve of her mouth.

_(She trusted him, completely. Despite his poor attempts at lying.)_

“What does all this mean, Solas?” she whispered. Her breath was warm against the sensitive skin of his wrist, and his thumb absently stroked the lines of her vallaslin as he contemplated what to say.

Those marks…His they might be, but Inera was still raised on the myths that painted him a deceitful monster; it was even part of why she chose them.

_(And she didn't know. Would she still gaze at him so sweetly if she did? Would her trust remain so absolute?)_

It would be a disaster to simply tell her. He couldn’t, not even as the guilt threatened to overwhelm him.

“It would be kinder if I…”

But he was stopped by Inera’s hands cupping his cheeks, and her now open eyes burned with determination. He found himself helpless under their intensity.

“Solas,” she whispered, “do you want this?”

He had barely breathed out a “Yes,” before silky soft lips were pressed against his. The ferocity of their attack took him off guard, but it wasn't long before he found himself responding in kind. The hand on her cheek moved to bury itself in her hair, uncaring of the intricate braids he was surely destroying.

Inera didn’t seem to mind. Instead, she moaned in a way that was so unimaginably sweet, he almost came undone. He was so close to losing himself in her entirely…

_(No, not yet.)_

He needed to clear his head. He needed to stop, to gather himself, but couldn't bear the thought of Inera believing herself left hanging yet again.

“ _Ar lath, ma vhenan_ ,” he confessed softly, gently freeing himself from their embrace.

Smiling at the dazed expression on her face, Solas gave her a final kiss on the forehead as he turned to leave.

If he were to seriously consider this path…everything needed to be rethought. Could he abandon all of his plans, his duty, for Inera?

_(Yes.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, after a very long delay, here's the next chapter! To be honest, I'm not sure when/if I'll be updating again. Life kinda happened, and I lost all my ideas for how this was gonna ultimately go. Thankfully, I had this chapter sitting half finished on my computer already, so it was pretty easy to pick up.


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